Using shades of irony to capture moments of surprise and sadness, Edith Wharton and Henry James play with reality—in the work of a portrait artist and in the secret love of a “fallen” woman for her daughter.
The author of over forty books, Edith Wharton (1862–1937) won the Pulitzer Prize for The Age of Innocence.
Henry James (1843–1916) wrote numerous stories, essays, plays, and novels, including The Portrait of a Lady and The Ambassadors.
Mary Ann Caws is Distinguished Professor of English, French, and comparative literature at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York.
Edith Wharton emerged as one of America’s most insightful novelists, deftly exposing the tensions between societal expectation and personal desire through her vivid portrayals of upper-class life. Drawing from her deep familiarity with New York’s privileged “aristocracy,” she offered readers a keenly observed and piercingly honest vision of Gilded Age society.
Her work reached a milestone when she became the first woman to receive the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, awarded for The Age of Innocence. This novel highlights the constraining rituals of 1870s New York society and remains a defining portrait of elegance laced with regret.
Wharton’s literary achievements span a wide canvas. The House of Mirth presents a tragic, vividly drawn character study of Lily Bart, navigating social expectations and the perils of genteel poverty in 1890s New York. In Ethan Frome, she explores rural hardship and emotional repression, contrasting sharply with her urban social dramas.
Her novella collection Old New York revisits the moral terrain of upper-class society, spanning decades and combining character studies with social commentary. Through these stories, she inevitably points back to themes and settings familiar from The Age of Innocence. Continuing her exploration of class and desire, The Glimpses of the Moon addresses marriage and social mobility in early 20th-century America. And in Summer, Wharton challenges societal norms with its rural setting and themes of sexual awakening and social inequality.
Beyond fiction, Wharton contributed compelling nonfiction and travel writing. The Decoration of Houses reflects her eye for design and architecture; Fighting France: From Dunkerque to Belfort presents a compelling account of her wartime observations. As editor of The Book of the Homeless, she curated a moving, international collaboration in support of war refugees.
Wharton’s influence extended beyond writing. She designed her own country estate, The Mount, a testament to her architectural sensibility and aesthetic vision. The Mount now stands as an educational museum celebrating her legacy.
Throughout her career, Wharton maintained friendships and artistic exchanges with luminaries such as Henry James, Sinclair Lewis, Jean Cocteau, André Gide, and Theodore Roosevelt—reflecting her status as a respected and connected cultural figure. Her literary legacy also includes multiple Nobel Prize nominations, underscoring her international recognition. She was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature more than once.
In sum, Edith Wharton remains celebrated for her unflinching, elegant prose, her psychological acuity, and her capacity to illuminate the unspoken constraints of society—from the glittering ballrooms of New York to quieter, more remote settings. Her wide-ranging work—novels, novellas, short stories, poetry, travel writing, essays—offers cultural insight, enduring emotional depth, and a piercing critique of the customs she both inhabited and dissected.
I've read a few of these from the CUNY series. They always feature two writers that have something in common -- time, place, nationality -- and present one story from each that speak to or against each other in some way. These would make excellent book club selections. Just starting this one with Edith Wharton and Henry James.
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Finished the short story last night by Edith Wharton about two cousins. One of them gets married and the other gets pregnant. The married one supports the child, and eventually adopts her. The story is narrated from the pov of the married woman. Her sentiments of pity, generosity, and yes, even self-knowledge are fully disclosed, but ultimately unreliable. Easily, one could image the story told from the other cousin’s pov where the married woman was a monster who stole a child.
Which reminds me of that Kafka story that scared me to death way back when. The one where the man runs out of the house and drowns himself because he’s suddenly faced with the truth about his assumptions.
All this to say, I may really really be totally full of shit, but, if so, I hope I die ignorant.
This contains two novellas: The Old Maid by Edith Wharton, and The Real Thing by Henry James. I was somewhat entertained by the Wharton story, but The Real Thing reminded me that I'm not a fan of Henry James.